Gossamer Threads
by Daggerpoint
Summary: Peter has unintentionally grown up. Wendy is a young woman. But when Wendy finds herself trapped in marriage...
1. Loss of Innocence

AN: This is my first serious Peter Pan Fanfiction. It is a dark fic, containing subject matter not everyone may be comfortable with. Read at your own risk.  
  
Gossamer Threads  
By Daggerpoint  
  
The window was still open. It had been years since her adventures, and now Wendy sat preparing for her last night of childhood. As of tomorrow, she would truly become a woman, with her wedding to Sir Richard. Her hair gleamed in the lamp light, drawing the deep gold out. She slowly ran a brush through her hair contemplating what the dawn would bring. She had grown in to a lovely young lady; despite that she had fought every change. A single crystal tear made it's way down her pale complexion. Dread filled Wendy's being. She had no love for her intended, and he had only lust for her, but she had no choice. He had connections and power; her family dangling in his grasp. She could not be selfish. She would protect her family, even if it meant sacrificing herself.  
  
A shadow hovered at the window. A face peered into the room, the eyes fixed on Wendy. It was Peter Pan. But not the Peter of old. His eyes had remained the same, but the rest of him had grown older in accordance with Wendy's growth. He was startled to see the female he loved in tears. Peter had often dreamed of entering her room, of comforting her, but something had always held him back. What could he offer such an amazing girl. He was, as someone once told him, incomplete, deficient. These thoughts continued to swirl in Peter's head. He could take no more and he fled into the night.  
  
Wendy looked up as her curtains moved. Was it... No it was just wishful thinking. With a sigh she set down her brush, turned down the lamps and slipped into bed. Her eyes filled with tears as she slipped into sleep, a single word on her lips. "Peter..."  
  
Wendy lay deathly still listening to the steady breathing of the monster that called himself her husband. She feared waking him. Feared to be used again. She could barely suppress a shudder at the thought of how he had been so careless and rough about taking her innocence. She felt dirty, used, and empty. The clock chimed 2 o'clock pulling Wendy out of her thoughts. Gently she managed to remove herself from the bed with out waking Richard. She moved waif like to the armoire extracting a clean nightgown to replace the one that had been ruined by her husband's passions. She then let herself out of the room and headed for the washroom.  
  
Sighing Wendy stood looking at her body in the washroom mirror. She had just finished removing all traces of the loss of her maidenhood from her body, but she could not remove the bruises that even in the light of the moon could be seen turning deep purple in color. Wendy turned and pulled her nightgown up off the floor, and gently stepped into it. The gown covered most of the bruising; he had been careful not to mark where the bruises could be seen.  
  
Silently she left the washroom in search of a place to sleep. After a brief search Wendy found herself in a guestroom not far from the washroom. She curled up into a fetal position in the middle of the bed, tears leaking from her eyes and silent sobs wracking her body. Wendy looked out the window, her eyes widening with the realization that this room faced the same direction as her room in her parents' house had, and of course the direction the nursery had. Her eyes began to the search the heaven looking for a specific star. There, there it was second to the right and straight on till morning. Moving slowly she managed to reach the window seat and throw up the sash, before collapsing. "Peter..." Wendy whispered brokenly. "Oh Peter how I need you."  
  
Peter settled down outside the nursery, listening to the chatter of the boys. Wendy's window was shut and locked, and Peter needed to know why. His brows furrowed as he listened as they talked of a wedding. Of his Wendy's wedding! He only grew more concerned as he listened to the boys speak of Sir Richard, her husband. He sounded cruel and hard; not one who would treasure Wendy. Peter was startled out of his thoughts when one of the twins began to sob. Michael began to comfort him. He had grown to be so much like his sister, a kind caring person, with a knack for story telling, but he had a mischievous streak as long as the Nile. His voice rose as he began to weave a tale of what a life Wendy would lead, the dresses, the balls, the beauty.  
  
"Michael." The other twin pulled gently on his sleeve. "But where is Wendy's room now?"  
  
Michael was silent for a moment. "The manor in the country. The one by the river and the old oak."  
  
Peter did not wait to here what else was to be said but leaped into the air, headed towards the old manor. The building rose stately and lonely from the fields that surrounded it. A haunting forbidden look was taken as the moon cast her pale shadow upon it. Peter slowed his flight at the edge of the field, wary to cross the moonlit plain, where he would be easily visible. His eyes scanned the old house, wondering in which room he would find Wendy. The moons glare at his back made him feel as though her were being watched, searching desperately for a clue to where she would be. A flicker of movement from one of the windows caught his attention. Fixing the location of the window in his mind, Peter flew towards the stars.  
  
Peter again approached the old manor, this time coming from the sky. In his hands he held flowers unknown to this world. He didn't care if Wendy was married, he needed her. Peter hovered in front of the window he had seen earlier, surprised to find the window open, but even more surprised, and completely angered to find Wendy passed out in the window seat, evidence of her pain evident in the tear tracks that had dried upon her silken cheeks.  
  
Gently he extended his hand caressing her cheek, moving to push a stray lock behind her ear. She sighed, moving gently in her sleep. Pan's concern increased tenfold, as she winced at the movement. Ever so carefully he gathered Wendy into his arms, careful not to wake her. Hovering gently he moved to the bed, pulling the covers back gently. Ever so slowly he covered her with the bed cloth; finally setting the neverflowers on the bedside table. Completely drained by holding his emotions in check, Pan slumped to the floor, Wendy's hand clasped in his own.  
  
Wendy awoke with a start, the clock in the hall chiming 4. As she attempted to move she found her hand immobilized. Fear coursed through her body, as the memories of the evening came rushing back to her. She struggled to pull her hand away, backing into the headboard as she sat up, shaking uncontrollably.  
  
It was the movement of his hand being jerked that brought Peter pan back to wakefulness. Wendy sat huddled at the top of the bed, shaking. He was hurt, but concern quickly drove the emotion out of his heart. Tentatively he reached out his hand, touching Wendy's shoulder. She reacted as if she had been burned, moving away and whimpering. Not knowing what else to do Peter stared forlornly at her.  
  
"Wendy..."  
  
It had escaped his lips, a simple whisper of a word, before he realized he had spoken. Despite this, it seemed to calm the shaking girl before him.  
  
As her shaking stopped, Wendy looked up. Sun kissed skin, covered in leaves, golden curls, and eyes the color of the sea, normally bright with mischief and happiness, were filled with concern. Peter. With a soft cry, Wendy threw herself into Peter's arms, startling him. Tears leaked out of her eyes, as she buried her head in his shoulder.  
  
Peter was dazed by the sudden change in Wendy's manner. Pushing his thoughts away, he wrapped her in his arms, sitting on the bed rocking her steadily as she sobbed.

AN2: Sorry if Pan and Wendy are a little OOC. I'm trying to predict how they would be if they did grow. Any ways let me know what you think. Thanks! 


	2. Saving WendyLady

Disclaimer: I do not and never have owned Peter Pan and anything related top it, although I do claim this plot line.  
  
AN: This is my first serious Peter Pan Fanfiction. It is a dark fic, containing subject matter not everyone may be comfortable with. This chapter contains mild sexual content.  
  
Gossamer Threads  
By Daggerpoint  
  
Time seemed to race forward, but somehow stood at a halt, as Peter gently cradled the broken girl in his arms. After an eternity yet still seemingly only a moment, Wendy's body was no longer wracked by tears and she gently drew back from his body. Entranced Peter wiped away the tears that clung to Wendy's lashes.  
  
"Beautiful." Besides her name, it was the only other word spoken.  
  
Wendy turned her gaze back to the window. "No Peter." Crystal drops silently made their way down her face. "I am broken, empty."  
  
Hesitantly he reached out and cupped her chin. Ever so slowly Peter turned her face to his, though she refused to meet his gaze. "Never," he whispered. "Never. You will always be beautiful to me. How could any one as perfect as you be broken?" Although it was more of a statement then a question, Wendy hesitated to answer. Still refusing to meet Peter's eyes she pulled up the sleeve of her nightgown, to reveal five bruises, that formed a handprint. It was as if someone had gripped her far to tightly for her gentle body to handle.  
  
Shock coursed threw Peter's system. As if she might bruise even more, he set Wendy on her feet. She merely stared at the boy who had stolen her heart oh so many years ago. With the grace of a panther, Peter pulled her dressing gown over her head, leaving her standing nude. His gaze how ever was anything but appreciative. As every bruise was revealed Peter's scowl only deepened. Wendy remained motionless, rigid with fear. She was awoken from her stupor, as Peter Pan collapsed on his knees before her. "My Wendy," he whispered brokenly. "Oh my beautiful Wendy." He remained fixated on the floor unable to move, words unable to express his grief.  
  
Ever so slightly his shoulders began to shake, from his suppressed rage. He looked up into Wendy's gaze for the first time, his eyes burning with righteous flames. "I'll kill him." Peter's voice held a steel edge.  
  
Wendy dropped to her knees beside him. "Y..you can't," her voice shaking.  
  
"Why not? You can't love him."  
  
She shook her head sadly.  
  
"Why Wendy?" Peter's eyes attempting to read her soul.  
  
Her body was once again quivering with suppressed tears. "He'll kill them." Her whisper was so low that it almost went unheard.  
  
"Who Wendy? who will he kill?" Peter urged.  
  
"My family. Oh God Peter. He can." With that she threw herself into his arms.  
  
For a time they remained on the floor. Eventually Peter attempted to remove himself from Wendy's grasp. Her response was to whimper and hold him ever tighter.  
  
"Wendy," he pleaded gently. "I'll rid you of him. Just let me go."  
  
"You can't Peter. No one can." Her sad gaze met his. "He... He has too many connections." Her hand came to rest on his shoulder.  
  
"Than let me take you back to Neverland."  
  
"No Peter."  
  
"Then I am useless to you Wendy. I can not rescue you. I can not save you. I have nothing I can do for you."  
  
Startled by her own boldness, Wendy lifted Peter's hand to her breast. "Heal me Peter. Heal me. Show me the beauty of love. Remove him from my body and soul." Ever so gently she pressed her lips to his as she had when she was just a girl aboard the Jolly Roger. As they kissed, the two found themselves hovering above the floor. Smiling into the Hidden Kiss, Peter directed them towards the bed.  
  
As the clock struck 4, Wendy lay comfortably spooned against Peter, who drew lazy shapes upon her back. Silence reigned. The two faced the window, which remained open, showing the sky lightening with a false dawn.  
  
Despairing at breaking the silence, Peter finally spoke. "I have to go back to n Neverland."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Come with me."  
  
"I can't Peter."  
  
"Please." "Oh how I wish I could."  
  
As a shiver passed threw her body, Peter pulled her closer to him. "How I wish I could free you from that monster."  
  
"But you have Peter." She turned over in his arms to face him. "For the rest of my life I will be able to hold this night in my heart. It will protect me when everything else is gone." She kissed him gently.  
  
Reluctantly they both pulled back. Coming to a silent agreement, they drew apart and left the bed. Leisurely they dressed and remade the bed, stealing gentle kisses. And when all this was done, they stood before the open window, words failing. As the true dawn began to rise Peter spoke words that Wendy had always longed to hear, for perhaps the only time...  
  
"I love you Wendy Darling."  
  
"And I love you Peter Pan."  
  
With that Peter vanished into the rising sun, and out of Wendy's life.

AN2: No, this is not the end. So please read and review, and let me know how you think this story is going thus far. Thanks. 


	3. Memories and Faith

Disclaimer: I do not and never have owned Peter Pan and anything related top it, although I do claim this plot line.  
  
AN: This is my first serious Peter Pan Fanfiction. It is a dark fic, containing subject matter not everyone may be comfortable with.  
  
Gossamer Threads  
By Daggerpoint  
  
A young woman of nineteen, sat in a rocking chair by the window, humming. In her arms she rocked a young babe perhaps three months old. The window was open despite the fact that it was barely the beginning of spring. The room was a cozily light nursery. The young mother looked down at her son, a look of tenderness on her face, before staring back out the window, pensively.  
  
Wendy Darling had changed ever so much in the year she had been married to Sir Richard Darle. She was no longer the beautiful, happy girl of her youth. In her place was a woman pushed and beaten down, almost to the point of breaking. Her husband, she sneered at the thought, was a cruel, merciless man, who never hesitated to use his fist, if he thought his wife was out of line.  
  
Only one thing had kept her from becoming a mere shell, the way she had when her husband had taken her on their wedding night one year ago. Peter Pan. Her night with Peter. That one night kept her motivated, and gave her the will to live, and when she had thought it to be but a dream, in her arms she held the proof. Richard might think this child to be his, but Wendy knew better. Although most of the child's features took after her family and herself, his eyes and grin could only have been Peter's.  
  
The child stirred restlessly against her, and Wendy deftly released her dressing gown and brought her son to her breast. He suckled contently. Feeding her son from her own body was the only thing Wendy had refused to back down from, despite the many beatings it had earned her. She would not let her child be raised by some other woman. Tonight however, she need not fear a beating. Richard was on business in London and would not return to the manor for many a days yet.  
  
He had forbidden her to go, of course, sighting that it wouldn't be good for the baby. Wendy, however, knew that it was to bar her from the opportunity of seeing her family. Richard did not approve of the adopted Lost Boys. He had made it plain that Wendy was his, and the boys had no say. In fact Wendy could count on one had the number of times she had seen her family since the Wedding.  
  
"Madame." Her lady's maid Martha, entered the nursery bobbing a curtsy. "Dinner is served." She cast a quick glance around. This room had once been a guestroom, but at her Mistress bidding it had transformed into a nursery. In fact The Lady Wendy had given birth in this room, despite Sir Richard's protests. She had claimed at the time it was closer to the washroom, but Martha didn't blame her for not wanting to have her child in the cold Master Suit. In fact the bed still remained in the room and Lady Wendy slept in it whenever Sir Darle was gone. None of the servants mentioned it to their lord. The gentle Lady, whom they had all come to love, would not suffer anything they could prevent.  
  
Actually it had been Martha who had approached her master about turning this room into a nursery. She had said the ventilation would do the child good. Sir Darle had trusted her, as she had several healthy children, several of them boys, of her own. His concern was not precisely for the health of the child, but for the birth and wellbeing of a healthy heir. He cared only for appearance.  
  
"Martha." The servant was startled. The Lady very rarely talked to any of the servants, almost never using first names.  
  
Martha bobbed another curtsey. "Yes? My Lady." "Have you ever wanted to fly away from here? Fly amongst the stars?"  
  
"My Lady?" Martha's confusion and worry was plain.  
  
Wendy let out a short laugh. 'Never mind. Just the wanderings of a silly girl's mind." By this time the babe had finished nursing, and Wendy buttoned her gown. "Martha would you please bring me the green dinner dress?"  
  
Suddenly Martha became aware of just how young her mistress really was. She moved to retrieve the requested gown, then paused. "My Lady? If you wish I could have dinner sent here instead?" It was the first suggestion she had ever made for the Lady Wendy.  
  
A small smile graced Wendy's features. "I'd like that."  
  
Martha nodded. "I'll go request it then." And with another curtsey she was gone.  
  
Wendy stood and carried her son to the window. Holding him in her arms she began to speak to him. "Your father is out there. Among the stars." She smiled sadly. "He's probably found other Lost Boys to care for and have adventures with." With a sigh she turned from the window, and walked over to place her child in the waiting bassinet. Pulling the blanket over him, Wendy whispered "Sleep well my child."  
  
Wendy returned to her seat by the fire, lifting a book from the table beside it. She did not open it however. Instead she stared out the window, holding her tears at bay. She barely heard Martha return with a tray, which she left on the table where Wendy's book had sat not long ago.  
  
"Thank you Martha. That will be all this evening."  
  
Martha curtsied to her mistress and left the room, as Wendy turned her attention to the tray. She soon lost interest however, and gently set down her silverware. As quiet as a waif she moved to the bookcase that was built in to the far wall, and gently withdrew a thick tome from the shelf, caring it back to her chair. Setting the book on her lap she allowed it to fall open to where several beautiful flowers had been pressed between the pages. Gently Wendy stroked the brittle petals, her mind bring her back to the morning after her wedding.  
  
After Peter left, Wendy had found the flowers on the table, as fresh as when they had been picked. They had smelled divine, but Wendy knew she could not risk their discovery. Unable to be rid of them, she had pulled a dusty book from the shelf and slipped the flowers between the pages, to preserve as much as to hide them. Completing this task, Wendy left her sanctuary and returned to the master suit, where shortly her husband awoke and again made use of his bride.  
  
A sound by the window, pulled Wendy out of her memories. She silently closed the book and set it aside. The curtains moved, though there was no wind. Wendy did not move. And then they stopped, and she sank back in disappointment. It had not been Peter. During the past year she had hoped and prayed for his return, wish for a rescue and for her son to know his true father.  
  
She had in a small way tried to tie her son to his biological parent. Though Richard had name the boy William, in honor of his deceased father, Wendy had given the middle name of Peter. Though Richard had been suspicious, Wendy had merely sighted faith as her reason for the name. Richard had accepted this with out question, never knowing that the child would carry his true father's name forever.

* * *

AN: Sorry for this post for having taken so long and for being so short. I have been suffering from writer's block, plus have been working quite a bit. Any ways please let me know what you think through a review.


	4. Return

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan and am not accociated with it in anyway. This is only for fun and produces no profit and is not intened to do such.

Gossamer Thread

by Daggerpoint

* * *

Peter had avoided the country manor since the morning he had left Wendy, at her request. He could not bear to see what her monster of a husband had done to her. Instead he frequented the Darling family windows, hoping to gain news of his love. There was precious little said about Wendy. The little he could glean from what was said, Peter found Wendy's husband had managed to seclude her from her family, and each time they had been able to see her she seemed to be a mere shadow of herself. 

When he was unable to stand the gnawing at his heart as he listen to the stories of Wendy's captivity any longer, Peter Pan would return to Neverland. It however was not how it was meant to be. Parts of the land were always dark and stormy, more treacherous then they had every been, even in the years that Peter had separated himself from Wendy. This was not the only change that had occurred in Neverland. The pirates had died out or vanished, no one was quite sure which, but peace was reigned. Some things however did not change. The mermaids still swam. The Indians lived as they always had. The jungle flourished, and there were new Lost boys. But even this could not be identical to how it had been. Peter Pan still lead the Lost Boys on adventures, for children, just living is an adventure. However for ever adventure they had Peter spent a portion of time in Wendy's world and a portion of time on his own.

At times being around others became too much for him to bare, and then Peter retreated to a quiet grove near the sea, but soon even solitude became oppressive. Desperate he began to imagine, imagine having Wendy for his own, forever. This pretend held Peter's heart, and as he pretended he began to turn parts of his dream into reality. In the grove, Pan built a modest house, beautifully natural and modern as best as the two elements could mesh. This house Peter built for Wendy, taking great pains with all of the details. The living room and dinning room over looked the sea, the kitchen faced the glade as did a small guest chamber, and their bedroom however was far grander. Peter had built the house in three stories, the third being a square room similar to an oversized copula. This room was as Peter imagined the bed chamber for him and Wendy, and it over looked the entire clearing and the sea. This room received the most of Peter's attention. He had built exquisite furnishings for the bedroom, imagining Wendy's reaction to each, gentle curve or intricate carving.

Soon however Peter found he could no longer pretend that one day Wendy would be back. At this time Peter knew that he must return Wendy to Neverland. Despite all his efforts he knew that he was dieing with out her, and with him so was Neverland. Unable to resist, a year and a week since he had last seen her, Peter Pan set off to find his Wendy.

He had returned sooner then expected. Wendy sighed as she began applying make up to the few visible bruises Richard had left. His deal had fallen though, and he was in one of the foulest moods she had ever seen. She finished with the concealing make-up. He had probably made use of at least one brothel in the city. She felt no jealousy at the thought. Wendy couldn't help but feel sorry for which ever girl he had used. They after all would have to be similar. Both forced to accept the cruel man, most likely trapped in a life in which they did not live in, but merely survived. Her lips curved in a slight smile. Oh how Richard would beat her if he heard her thoughts. He wife, Lady Darle, comparing herself to a common whore. The smile faded just a soon as it appeared. That was all she was, to Richard, his personal whore. Wendy gave herself a last, quick glance in the mirror. Yes, none of the bruises showed. Yes, she was dressed completely. Most importantly, yes, her dress was appropriate. She stood smoothing the skirts. It was time to leave. Richard hated to be kept waiting, even if they were going to be "fashionably" late.

For the first time in over a year, Peter approached the manor that caged his Wendy. He dropped silently from the sky, coming to rest outside the window of the room that he had last seen Wendy in. It was well lit, a fire blazed away in the corner, Peter noted as he peeked in. But what really caught his attention was the cradle. He experimentally lifted the sash. It moved up easily, but the sound of the door opening caused him to shut it quietly and silently. A strange woman entered the room, and bustled over to the crib. He was about to leave when the woman started talking softly to herself. Peter froze; remaining by the window to listen.

"Yea' poor babe. Poor Darling child. Yer mums in for a world of hurt. Business was not good, not good at all." She picked up the child, rocking him as he had begun to fuss. "He always takes it out on the poor lass."

Peter felt his heart turn to ice. That monster was hurting his Wendy.

"It's that other man's fault." The woman paused to look at the now sleeping child in her arms. "Don't know how she did it but yer nothing like him. Such a sweet babe." Sighing she moved and placed the child back in the cradle. "'Tis that awful man Hook that turned the Master from cold to cruel."

She turned, and found herself looking down a sword, into the stormy ocean eyes of a young man. "You will tell me everything."


End file.
